Total pages in book: 42
Estimated words: 38855 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 38855 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 194(@200wpm)___ 155(@250wpm)___ 130(@300wpm)
I felt loved growing up. Both by my mother and her parents, despite that my bio-dad signed away his legal rights the day I was born.
I have his name. I could have tracked him down, but the urge never tugged at me. I understood. He was young, they were both seventeen and his family was wealthy, and she was just the pretty girl from the wrong side of the tracks. I made my peace with it and never felt I’d missed out on anything.
I ease off the accelerator of my dusty Subaru, with its taped-up taillight and a rear passenger door that doesn’t open, as I drive down Main Street. I see the green neon sign for Duffy’s Bar & Grill and do a fine job parallel parking in the open spot out front.
The door of my Subaru creaks as I swing it open, then close it behind me on another squeal, taking a look up and down the small main street. I didn’t take time to appreciate it when I blew in and out getting my supplies the other day.
It’s charming, but not the contrived sort of way that some little downtowns in tourist areas can be. There’s a park down the way with a white gazebo in the center, a barber shop with a red and white spinning pole out front and a coffee shop called Hot Shot with a black and green awning.
It reminds me of that town in the Gilmore Girls and I imagine the townsfolk characters that go along with it all.
There’s a smattering of people walking dogs, sitting on benches and it feels safe...easy...and I start to relax as I head across the sidewalk.
Just inside the worn wooden front door of the bar, I pause. It’s darker inside, but still pleasant, and for such a small town it’s bustling with about twenty or twenty-five customers at the bar and at tables. The scent of the fryer makes my mouth water as I take a spot at a small, inconspicuous corner table near the bar.
A pretty, California-looking blonde smiles as she approaches and gives the table a wipe down with one hand, before nodding toward the menu folded between the catchup and salt & pepper holder on the table. “You drinking or eating or both?”
“Both.” I reach out and open the menu, scanning the selection of bar type fare. “But I guess I’ll start with a beer.”
“We have ten drafts, and a whole mess of bottled...” She reaches forward and takes the other laminated card from where the menu came and hands it to me.
I scan the selections then slip it back into place.
“I’ll have a Blue Moon. With an orange slice if you have it. And I’ll have the double bacon cheeseburger, with everything. Seasoned fries.” On cue, my stomach growls, making the waitress smile again.
“You got it. Be right back with your beer and as fast as I can with your burger.” She gives me a long slow look before moving away. “You old enough to drink?”
“Yes. Twenty-one last month...” I reach for my backpack to get my I.D.
She smiles again as I hand her my license and she takes a look then nods. “Happy belated Birthday.”
On my thank you, she turns and heads toward the bar.
I look around, noticing half the patrons staring at their phones. I was never much of a phone girl. Maybe because I didn’t have that many friends. Taking care of my mom for the last two years was my focus, and along with my schoolwork it didn’t leave much social time.
Still, sitting here, knowing I ditched my phone about ten miles back when I realized it still had the “Find my iPhone” app on it, and my stepfather might be able to track it, I wish I had someone to call. Or text. Or whatever.
It was stupid to ditch it but he paid the bill on it and never let me have my own id so I could add or delete my own apps. He liked making sure I always knew who was in charge.
Watching all the other people in the bar, I feel more alone with all the laughter and energy around me, that realization is clearer than the five days I’ve spent in solitude.
My beer and burger are delivered in short order and before long, my head is a little buzzy and I reach down and unbutton my jeans, tugging my t-shirt down because I inhaled the burger and fries, along with two beers.
As I stretch up in my chair, trying to ease the discomfort of my distended abdomen, the pretty blonde that waited on me comes over with a laptop in her hand and sits down at the open table next to me.
“Good burger.” I manage, holding back a little burp with my fist to my lips. “Good beer, too.”